Ice
by NaryaRingofFire
Summary: Dwalin just could not look away, no matter how hard he tried. He saw the blood, he saw Thorins empty eyes, he saw that Thorin was not breathing, but his mind downright refused to put the pieces together and come to the only logical conclusion. It could not be true, not Thorin, not now, not after everything.


Dwalin just couldn´t look away, no matter how hard he tried. Aghast the dwarf warrior kept starring at his best friend and king, lying pale and limp on the ice. He saw the blood, he saw Thorin´s empty eyes glancing at the sky without a speck of live in them, he saw that Thorin wasn´t breathing, but his mind downright refused to put the pieces together and come to the only logical conclusion. It just couldn´t be true, not Thorin, not now, not after everything.

Dwalin realized only faintly that the others had also gathered and he moved only when Balin knelt down directly in front of him. His world had lost all focus, he was seeing nothing but Thorin, even with Balin blocking his view and he knew already that this would be the image he would keep seeing for weeks, if not years, every time he would close his eyes.

„Where are Kíli and Fíli?"Dwalin had no idea who the question came from, but his heart lurched to his throat. Suddenly he was seeing Fíli being stabbed by Azog again, hearing Kílis incredulous scream, catching the look in Thorins eyes, so full of raging pain and hate and most of all helplessness. He had turned away when Azog had dropped Fíli, but it turned out he hadn´t even been remotely fast enough.

„Dwalin?"How long had they been calling for him? He felt Balins hand on his shoulder, saw the dreading faces of the others. „Dwalin, do you know where Kíli and Fíli are?"Balin was using his favourite-uncle voice, speaking incredibly calm and without any reproach, but Dwalin would still have preferred his guts being roasted by Smaug. By Mahal, he wanted to answer, the others had the right to know, had the right to know the true extent of his pathetic failure as a protector, but he couldn´t get a word out. He felt like if he opened his mouth he would throw up immediately.

The world was blurring and Dwalin felt his knees giving in, his shines colliding painfully with the ice. For a moment he prayed to Mahal, that the ice would break and let him drown, but if the ice were to break under him, he would probably take the others down with him and for today he had really messed up enough.

It was the thought of Kíli that kept him from collapsing. Yes, Fíli might be dead, but the last time he had seen Kíli, the lad had been half mad with grief and fury, but very much alive. If Kíli was still alive and in need of help – who knew what kind of trouble the lad had gotten himself into, he could be lying somewhere, injured and alone, torturing himself with the memory of his brothers death over and over again – then it was Dwalins duty to do for once something right and help find and look after his young prince. Dwalins look shifted back to Thorins pale face and for some reason it calmed him down and helped him focus. He couldn´t fail his friend again. He just couldn´t.

"Azog… he...he killed Fíli on the tower, then dropped him down and Kíli was running up the tower and I haven´t seen him since, I don´t know where he is now, I really don´t" He was stuttering at first but then everything came out in a rush. He looked at Thorin again, then at the ice, just so he didn´t have to see the faces of the others.

He had been up there with them, he had been supposed to protect the king and his nephews and had failed in the most dramatic way possible. Balins hand was letting go of his shoulder and Dwalin heard his older brother taking control, giving command as gentle but firm as possible. Ori was trying to get to Thorins side, but Balin shoved him back to Dori, someone asked for Gandalf, there seemed to be an awful lot of people trying not to ask for Bilbo -please, Mahal, not the hobbit too-, but Balin seemed to be able to sort it all out and Dwalin soon lost track of all the voices.

He was trying to get up and join the others- he had to find Kíli, because Kíli just HAD to be alive and tell him, he really owed the lad that much- but Balin was pushing him down and he found he didn´t have the strength to resist his brother. He was weak, so weak.

He had failed, completely and utterly failed. He prayed that at least Kíli was still alive-the world couldn´t be so cruel to extinct the whole line of Durin, but leave him, him who had sworn to always protect them and die for them if necessary, alive, it just couldn´t-, but even if Kíli was alive that wasn´t his merit and changed nothing about his failure.

Thorins eyes were blankly starring into the sky. Dwalin started to sob dryly. He never knew how long he sat there sobbing. It wasn´t really crying, if he had cried, he wouldn´t have hidden his tears, but there were none. He was kneeling on the ice, trapped in dark, deep, engulfing despair.

It was Balin who finally broke him out of his rigidity. "It´s getting cold out here", he said and even in his pitiful state Dwalin heard immediately that his brother had been crying. "Better get the lad inside" With an incredible effort Dwalin managed to tilt his head and look around. He and Balin were alone on the ice. The pale winter sun was still in the sky, but quite far to the west. Soon they would be sitting in the dark.

Dwalin nodded mechanically. Till now he had not dared to touch Thorin, maybe out of fear to acknowledge what had happened and thereby make it real, but now he stood up and stepped over to his friend. The burning in his guts had vanished, leaving only emptiness behind. Carefully Dwalin bend down, slipping one hand under Thorins knees and the second beneath his shoulders. Thorin was surprisingly easy to carry, even with the chain mail, so much lighter than that time when…

Dwalin tried desperately to push away the memory, but of course it came to him anyway.

" _Thorin? Thorin, in Mahals name, where are you?" Dwalin was absolutely aware that this was no way to call for a king, but he was really beginning to worry. After the battle of Azanulbizar Thorin was incredibly withdrawn, often vanishing for hours. Not that Dwalin could resent him that, he too sometimes hid himself from the world and the death of his fa...-no, don´t think about that-, but Thorin had been missing since the morning and shortly after dawn Dís had burst in at the Fundin brothers, deeply disturbed and almost at tears._

" _Thorin, damn you, I..." Dwalin interrupted himself, noting that he found himself in front of a fairly grim looking inn. Well, if Thorin was in there, at least it would still be a dwarf inn. To that point Dwalin had outright refused seeking Thorin with the men._

 _Dwalin stepped in and to his relieve he spotted Thorin almost immediately. Unfortunately Thorin was in a state that could only be described as completely hammered. The king of the Longbeards was half lying on the table, dead drunk, whimpering quietly to himself. The fact that he needed at least two tries every time he wanted to grab his tankard, didn´t seem to hinder him from drinking even more._

 _Most dwarfs, including Dwalin, got in a good, maybe a bit too jolly mood, when drinking alcohol. Thorin after a certain amount got talkative and depressive, which was probably the worst possible combination and the reason why Thorin avoided so hard to get drunk. Normally anyway. Dwalin stepped up to the table with determination and took the tankard away from his king. "Thorin, that´s enough now. Dís is worrying herself sick, you..." Dwalin interrupted himself, when Thorin turned to him, starring like he had never seen him before, rolled his eyes and collapsed onto the table._

" _Thorin!" Dwalin grabbed his friend, carefully lowering him to the floor, while shooting furious looks to the dwarf at the bar. "How much did you give him?" "As much as he asked for", the other dwarf replied with a calm, that would have made Dwalin grab his axes, if he had not had both hands full of unmoving dwarf king. "Well, thanks for that", he grit out between his teeth, lifted up the unconscious Thorin with some difficulties and carried him out of the inn. The other dwarf didn´t ask for money. In that case Dwalin would have probably gone for his axes, Thorin or no Thorin._

" _By Mahal, are you heavy!", Dwalin groaned after no more then ten steps. "How do you manage to eat so little and weight so much" As if he had heard him Thorin suddenly shifted in his arms and threw up right on Dwalins chest. "Yes, thank you too", Dwalin murmured, glaring glumly at his ruined shirt. Should have worn armour. Much easier to clean. "So that´s your thanks?"_

 _Thorin coughed, but it sounded like a laugh, quickly turned into a cough. Dwalin sighed, but then a faint smile crept onto his face. "Don´t expect I will be easy at you tomorrow", he grumbled benevolent. "If you can get drunk like that, you can also do paperwork, my king"_

Dwalin stumbled down Ravenhill, Thorin in his arms and wished nothing more than for Thorin moving, as far as he was concerned he could also throw up as much as he wanted. Back then it had been an ordeal to get Thorin into bed, but now Dwalin would have liked nothing better then looking after an unconscious or drunken Thorin, if that only meant that he was still alive.

He knew that it was an absolutely futile and childish hope, but he couldn´t stop hoping, that Thorin would suddenly shift, moan, give some sign, any sign of life. Dwalin barely realized that they had reached the plain and were crossing the battlefield, littered with corpses. Memories of Azanulbizar rose up from the corners of his mind, crossing the images of this battle and dissolving into one bloody chaos. Dwalin was a warrior and had no problem with enduring battles. He just had a problem enduring what was left when the battle was over.

Erebor was now directly in front of them. Thorins mountain, Thorins kingdom. The moment Dwalin realized in all clarity, that Thorin would never be king under the mountain, even though Smaug was dead, even though they had won, it finally burst out of him and he started to cry, clutching Thorin to his chest. The tears were falling on Thorins face, on Thorins beard, a beard that was too damn short for a dwarf, let alone a dwarf king.

" _When are you finally growing a real beard? You are looking like a dwarfling, not a king" Dwalin grumbled, shoving his elbow into his friends side. The two dwarfs were sitting at the side of the training grounds, watching Fíli holding his own against Glóin. Normally Dwalin was Fílis trainer, but now and then the lad needed a different opponent and most of his age weren´t a challenge for him any more. Thorin averted his look from his nephew and answered calmly:"When we have taken Erebor back, like I told you" "So,... never", Dwalin gave back in good humour. Instantly the smile vanished from Thorins face and he went back to watching Fíli and Glóin._

" _Alright, I´m sorry", Dwalin added hastily. Thorin nodded, but his gaze was empty and Dwalin doubted that his friend had even heard him. He was cursing himself for bringing up the issue on what would have been a perfectly good day and even more for bringing it up in such a way. Dwalin had been born during the flight and had never seen Erebor, so he sometimes struggled to understand Thorins obsession with the mountain. Sometimes he thought that this was the biggest rift between them and Dwalin hated when that rift was opening up._

 _On the training ground Fíli got a good swing at Glóins legs and the older dwarf nearly fell. Thorins smile came back. "You trained him well, Dwalin", he said, clearly trying to change the topic. But suddenly Dwalin had an idea, an impulse that he needed to amend for his unthoughtful comment, that he needed to show to Thorin he was taking the reclaiming Erebor plan seriously, that he was taking him as king seriously and would never make fun of it again. So he nodded and said:"Yes, if he continues like that we will have the mountain back in no time."_

 _Thorin just starred, clearly not knowing how to react to this sudden turn. "Aren´t you the one always telling me that reclaiming Erebor is impossible and I should finally stop whining and appreciate what we have here?" "Maybe", Dwalin agree, suddenly feeling ashamed about his behaviour on this topic, during the last years. "But I know how damn much it means to you and yours and Balins stories are starting to make me really curious. I just want to say..." By Mahal, he really wasn´t good with words. "…Thorin, if you one day decide to make serious and go reclaim Erebor I will have your back"_

 _He saw faint reawakened hope appear in Thorins eyes, paired with uncertainty. "You would come with me? And you think that we could do it?" Dwalins eyes locked with Thorins and the noises from Fílis training fight suddenly seemed very far away. "If you lead us we will have that mountain back in no time"_

If you lead us we will have that mountain back in no time. When exactly had Thorin taken his decision to reclaim Erebor? Had it been that afternoon? Had Dwalin sealed his friends doom?

Sobbing uncontrolled Dwalin entered Erebor. He carefully shifted past that huge bell, hanging from the ceiling- it seemed like a century had past since he had helped secure it- to find himself standing in the hall not knowing what to do. Where should he take Thorin? No way I´m taking him to the crypt before everything is prepared, he decided, his first clear thought in ages.

He more then once nearly missed a step carrying Thorin up the stairs, but bloody knees were nothing against the frightening thought of letting Thorin go and somehow he got up the stairs, where he found himself confronted by a much bigger problem: a closed door. He was thinking about how in Durins name he could get that door open without dropping Thorin or having to lay him down, when Balin- had his brother been behind him all the time?- gently pushed past him and opened the door.

It was the room Thorin had chosen on his first day at Erebor, then never used again when the dragon sickness took hold. Dwalin had been here only once, but suddenly he knew with a strange certainty that this had been Thorins room as a dwarfling and this finding was like a new punch to the stomach.

Carefully Dwalin put Thorin down on the mostly intact bed, certain that Thorin would instinctively roll himself to his side, slightly pulling his knees up to his chest. Thorin never slept completely on his back.

But of course Thorin stayed cold and motionless and Dwalin who had thought that by now he had realized Thorins death, knew that in truth he had realized nothing. Shaking he dropped to his knees, like he had on the ice, but the abbess forming beneath him was so much bigger, huge, swallowing him.

Thorin was dead.

This was the end.

Really the end.


End file.
